Things Are Not Quite What They Seem
by tobeachildagain
Summary: Separately, Peter, Sirius and James come to the realization that Remus is a werewolf. Oh, my heartstrings!
1. Peter

First post, first story!

The Marauders have been dancing around in my head for some time now, and I just had to write about how they discovered that Remus was a werewolf. I know some things don't adhere to the timeline, but I felt that it was a necessary sacrifice to really capture their characters and friendship.

So without further ado, I hope you enjoy it!

All my love,

 _tobeachildagain_

P.S. Reviews would be most appreciated. Or you could just say hi :)

* * *

Surprisingly, it was Peter who found out first. Not by any amount of cleverness or intelligence on his part, but through dumb luck and his uncanny ability to be inconspicuous. A casual, albeit over-enthusiastic, clap on his back and a roguish grin from Sirius (Sirius who, when he wanted to, could quite literally charm the pants off any witch, wizard or thestral – yes, it had been wearing pants at the time) and Peter found himself suddenly left with the quivering remains of a decapitated flobberworm, curdling hippogriff's milk (amongst other things) and a pile of Sirius-induced vomit from James.

If the Slytherins failed to turn Gryffindor-red at dinner, Peter was going to **murder** Sirius.

So at half past eleven, two hours past curfew, Peter found himself scurrying out the dungeons and up the hidden corridor James had discovered a week earlier. If Peter hadn't been desperately trying to wipe niffler urine off his hand whilst holding his rolling stomach, he might have heard the footsteps earlier. Unfortunately, he only heard the footsteps when he saw the feet they belonged to, emerge at the turn of the corridor. He had no choice but to dive behind the nearest tapestry, hoping that the dark colours of the 16th century antique and dimly lit corridors would be able to hide his sorry (and rather large) ass.

"Honestly Albus, one day she really **is** going to get sick! I feel like we have cursed her! "

"Oh Minnie, If that were the case, I'd tell everyone I have an unlimited supply of Sherbet lemons and purple socks," Dumbledore chuckled.

"You cannot expect me to believe his friends aren't suspicious already - there are only so many times he can tell them that his mother is _'sick',"_ huffed McGonagall.

"Well, no. Unfortunately, Mr Lupin has made friends with the brightest students of his year."

Peter puffed with pride – _Dumbledore_ thought of him as one of the **brightest** students of his year!

Oh, Peter.

"Well then, they've surely noticed that he only disappears on every _full moon_. They take Astronomy, for Merlin's sake!"

Suddenly, Peter didn't feel so good.

"And I most certainly doubt that they believe his mum gets menstrual cramps so severe that he has to tend to her- not when he comes back looking like he might have had them himself."

Peter snickered at the image of Remus with menstrual cramps. In fact, for an eleven year old boy, the mere mention of 'menstrual' was enough to set him off. Combined with the image of Remus, delicate, gentle, shy, too embarrassed to talk about his _own_ bodily functions, let alone a _girl's_ , all-round prudish, 160cm of pure –

"- werewolf."

Peter almost screamed.

"Now Minervra, I'm sure his friends think a little more of him than that. That is to say, hypothetically, if they knew," said Dumbledore, pausing at the end of the corridor.

McGonagall simply pursed her lips.

Images of werewolves, ugly and snarling, with rabid eyes and deadly claws, leapt to life in Peter's mind and he recoiled in fear and disgust.

To think that he had slept in the same room as Remus for the better part of a year, sat at the same table as him, shared classes with him, borrowed books from him, considered him a friend, trusted him to wake him up for class and –

"I think – "

Dumbledore's suddenly sharp tone sliced through Peter's panic, and he slumped against the cold stone wall, fighting the rising panic.

"- that once well informed, let's say, ah, by a certain **unbiased** and **well written** _Werewolves: the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth_ by Ignor Antba Stards, in the restricted section, second row, top shelf, we find things to be not quite what they seem."

Professor McGonagall stared at him. Perhaps his seven hundred and ninety two years had finally caught up to him.

With a last glance at the now trembling tapestry, Dumbledore turned the corner in a whirl of star-spangled purple. Professor McGonagall wearily trailed after him, wondering, not for the first time, if it was time Dumbledore saw a mind healer.

Later, Peter would vehemently deny that he went anywhere near James' cloak that night. He would also, when confronted by Sirius the next day, claim 3am-desperate-for-a-piss-Sirius must have been dreaming - the map must have been wrong because Peter, the same Peter who copied Charms, Potions, Transfiguration and Herbology homework off Remus every week, would never, **ever** , visit the library of his own accord. And Peter most definitely was _not_ watching when Remus' face broke into a smile, a tired but _genuine_ smile, at finding a bar of Honeyduke's finest on his bed the next full moon.

It was only a small gift from a small boy, but for now, it was enough.

* * *

Well, what do you think? Yay/nay?

Should I continue and write one for Sirius and James?


	2. Sirius

_**For the people, by the people!**_

I would like to offer my thanks to all the people who reviewed – glad I caught your interest!

As a sapling-of-a-writer, it would be lovely if you could give me some honest critique regarding my writing:

\- How did you find the pace?

\- Did the tone fit?

\- What did you like/not like about the characterization?

\- What worked and didn't work in regards to the narrative voice?

Hope you enjoy this one – I certainly had a blast writing it!

All my love,

 _tobeachildagain_

* * *

To see Sirius without James was odd enough. But to see Sirius without James in the **Hospital Wing** was an unprecedented event. They were the dynamic duo, brothers from other mothers (this could not be truer – Walburga was a bitch), the double act, peas in a pod, criminal twins – if James landed himself in trouble, Sirius was the one who caused the fiasco. If Sirius landed himself in detention, James pranked whichever teacher had been stupid enough to not assign James a detention as well. But on this night, Sirius, well, almost Sirius (his left arm was now an impressive replica of the genitalia of a thestral with Spattergroit), was stiff as a board (he had been hit with multiple _Petrificus Totalus_ es), silent (either due to his spectacularly swollen jaw or the fact that Madame Pomfrey had not yet realized _Silencio_ was part of Mulciber's repertoire of childish spells), and very much **alone**.

A pained groan echoed through the wing.

Not so alone then.

"Mister Malfoy, if you don't stop moving, your ribs will not align properly and your jaw will dislocate again," tutted Madame Pomfrey.

Ah, _**Malfoy**_.

If Sirius hadn't been petrified, there would have been a big, smug, shit-eating grin on his face. He strained to hear Madame Pomfrey, mentally tallying up how badly he had hurt Malfoy. Ribs, 10 points. Face, - on an average person it would have been worth 20, but on a vain bastard like Malfoy, easily 40. Black eye, 10. Broken nose, 20. Half head of singed hair, 30. Complete absence of hair on the other half? Sirius repressed a whoop – 60.

Bruised balls?

Sirius almost felt bad, but then Malfoy's sneering face loomed in his mind.

" _Bet your Lupin's a nancy boy."_

" _Spineless worm!"_

 _"Ha, pathetic know-it-all"_

" _Nerd!"_

No, he deserved them, and more. Unfortunately Madame Pomfrey was of the opinion that a little punishment in the form of immobilization would do Sirius good (perhaps she thought she was doing the rest of the school a favor – a silent, unmoving Sirius in the hospital wing meant a safe day for the rest of Hogwarts; assuming James was busy looking for him, Peter was in the kitchens and Remus was studying). Sirius tried to remember how many _Petrificus Totaluses_ he had been hit with – was it 5? That would mean at least an overnight stay. Or did Mulciber manage to sneak in 2 as well? Either way, he was in for a long night. As for Malfoy, Pomfrey had simply mended his ribs, and declared everything else would have to heal naturally – her own form of punishment.

So, Sirius waited.

Sirius didn't know if it was the cold, the low moans, or the incessant rustling of curtains that woke him. Perhaps it had been all three. He gave a low groan and buried his head under his pillow. He froze. **Buried.** That would imply a change of position. Which implied movement. Which meant the hexes had worn off. Ecstatically, he punched the air in victory, and instantly regretted it. However, he promised himself the fist pump of a lifetime later, when his muscles were no longer interested in a demonstration of the effect of lactic acid, to congratulate himself for a fight well fought. However, his excitement at telling James, Peter and Remus how he had single-handedly put Malfoy in the hospital wing was just too much, and so he slowly sat up, wincing as he felt his muscles protest from disuse. He glanced blearily around the wing, smirking at the Malfoy sized lump on the bed opposite of him, tucked his wand back into yesterday's robe, and with a quick glance to ensure Pomfrey was nowhere in sight, quietly edged his way to the door.

He was halfway there when –

"Just where do you think you're going, young man?"

Sirius froze. He hurriedly schooled his features into his most charming smile – the smile that had gotten him out of two speeding tickets (underage and no licence) and **into** two Muggle clubs (despite being severely underage). He racked his brain for his most flattering line, slowly turned around and –

His smile slid off his face faster than Peter could say "Honeydukes". All his smug glee instantly vanished, to be replaced with a mounting horror, fear, and in equal parts, disgust and sympathy, for Madame Pomfrey had accidentally left the curtains of the bed in the farthest corner of the hospital wing slightly open, and there lay, well, what Sirius would describe as a mutilated corpse – no human could possibly survive a mauling like that. However, said corpse was currently sheepishly attempting to subtly lower himself back into the hospital bed.

Skinny pale legs were tinted red with unwashed blood. Claw marks shredded a pale muddy right leg and, despite the dim lights, Sirius could make out numerous blue-black bruises mottling whatever skin had been left intact. If the leg hadn't moved, Sirius doubted whether he would have known it **was** a leg at all. His eye's traveled up the boy's body – perhaps a 2nd or 3rd year? With each inch Madame Pomfrey revealed as she moved up the body to tend to the wounds, the more it looked like he wouldn't survive. Visibly crushed pelvis, arm broken in 3 places- possibly 4, a gaping hole stained dark red with blood in his abdomen, and more bruises on his chest. Sirius held his breath, his mission to escape completely forgotten as he quietly crept towards the curtain, trembling with morbid fascination as he took in the boy's body. Up close, Sirius almost vomited as he realized the severity of the injuries.

He couldn't understand why Madame Pomfrey wasn't panicking. In fact, she seemed perfectly calm. His respect for her grew exponentially- he knew she was good (first hand from various pranking mishaps), but he never thought she could be **this** good.

Anytime now…

Madame Pomfrey only turned briefly to uncork another potion, but that was all it took for Sirius to catch a glimpse of the boy's face.

Fuck.

Fucking, shitting, **fuck**.

Despite the gaping wound on his left check and the bruise on his forehead, there was no denying that it was Remus.

The same Remus who was a model student despite the strain of his mother's illness (excluding his role as mastermind of pranks), voted most likely to be prefect, head boy, and future Minister-of –Magic, had never insulted a person in his life (Sirius, James and Peter didn't count), his friend who he had never ONCE seen retaliate against the Slytherins, was lying on his deathbed.

Malfoy. Was. **Dead.**

Sirius felt a blinding rage surge through him- he had never felt so angry before in his life. Not when Bellatrix had burnt his broomstick at Christmas. Not when Kreacher had deliberately replaced the quill Sirius was going to gift to Remus with a silver one, knowing full well that Remus was fatally allergic to silver. Not even when Walburga, he refused to call that bitch 'mother', had sent Kreacher to personally deliver the elfish equivalent of a _Crucio_ simply because the Sorting Hat had placed him in Gryffindor. Unfortunately, because one was only sent to Azkaban for casting an unforgivable as a human, neither of which were applicable in this case, Walburga had gotten away with it.

Stormy eyes as hard as flint, his breathing erratic, he shook as rage, hot and fierce, coursed through him.

Mother _ **fucker.**_

For the first time, he allowed the terrifying fury of the Black family madness consume him, his magic crackling and spitting, a weapon of destruction. There, in the middle of the hospital wing, thrumming with raw, dark magic, dangerously beautiful despite his lips pulling back from his teeth in a feral growl, there was no denying that he was the heir to the most Noble House of Black.

He was just finishing Malfoy off with a spell he had once seen his father use to pull the brains out of a man's nose (in his head of course – even _he_ couldn't charm his way out of that one), when Remus' voice cut through his murderous haze.

"I'm sorry for the trouble. You shouldn't have to do this every month."

Every **month?**

They would need to create a new hell for Sirius when he was through with Malfoy – Azkaban wouldn't be nearly enough.

"Nonsense. It's the least I can do, dear."

"Maybe, I know I'm being silly, but maybe they'll find a cure."

Cure?

"My dearest Remus," he wanted to say. "Unfortunately there is no cure for _Slytherin Dickitus"._

Madame Pomfrey looked at him with heartbreaking sympathy.

"I suppose… I wasn't going to tell you until there was conclusive evidence that it worked, but Dumbledore has commissioned several leading Potion masters to work on a potion. Let's you keep your mind during the transformation."

Remus' eyes lit up as he allowed himself a rare moment to hope, if only to make himself forget the pain. Yet, he could never forget that one line from a Muggle film his mother insisted he watch with her - _**Caesar and Cleopatra**_. " _He who has never hoped can never despair_."

Hidden behind the curtains, twenty feet away from him, Sirius was doing some despairing of his own.

Remus was a werewolf **.**

A werewolf. A dark creature who, according to the books in the Black family library (and dinner table talk), like all other dark creatures, were disgusting, impure, unworthy scum, and like all scum, should be exterminated. Yet, as Sirius looked at Remus, apologizing over and over again as Pomfrey worked on him, despite the amount of agony he must have been in, all he saw was his friend. His friend who endured transformation after transformation, burdened with the knowledge that he could very well die on the next full moon. His friend, who despite his own suffering which he endured in silence, forced to shoulder the burden alone for fear of discovery, found the patience to humor Sirius' trivial tantrums, slipped Peter the last of his meager stash of chocolate when the Slytherins were particularly vindictive, and comforted James time and time again when Lily shot him down. Yes, Remus was a werewolf but he was first, and foremost, his **friend**. And if there was one thing Sirius didn't do, it was desert the ones he loved.

But that didn't mean he couldn't spend an afternoon hiding in the Room of Requirement, crying for the little boy who had his childhood ripped from him, for the 13 years of transformations Remus had endured, alone and terrified, for the injustice in the world and for the hardships of tomorrow.

But most of all, Sirius cried for the goodness and warmth that was _Remus Lupin._

* * *

Oh, my heartstrings! Sirius is such a complex character, and thus I found him an absolute treat to write!

Reviews would be most appreciated - more reviews = better writing in the future! Tell me if you liked it or not, what you think I need to improve on, or if you would just like to say hello, that would also be most welcome!


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